Once Upon a Wishing Star
by GreenWallsOfArt
Summary: The Blue Fairy comes to Earth to reconnect with Geppetto and Pinocchio after several years. But what she finds there turns out to be more than she ever expected. A combination of the Disney classic and the original story.
1. The Fairy Arrives

Many people believe that the stars are far away, full of otherworldly elements. Well, true, true—very true. But there are a select few, such as myself, who actually live in the stars.

How is this possible? Well, it's not always easy, living so far away from where human eyes can see us, and when they need us most, but we manage. Our daily work includes watching the earth, and listening to the prayers of those living below us, because we are the only ones who can grant them.

I am called a fairy. One who has blue hair, and lives in the largest star on the eastern side of the world, overlooking the quaint country of Italy. Each night, I sit, and wait, listening to the wishes of those who look up to my star home. And, if I know what benefits may come about because of the wish, I leave my home to appear on Earth. It's quite good to leave the star, because I can stretch my wings and fly for a time. That's one wish that I wish I could grant—to see a human being fly on their own wings. Such happiness is what us star-fairies live for.

There's no greater joy to a star-fairy than the laughter of children. And believe you me, there is lots of that in the little town I look after. From the thousands of years I have watched humans, I know there is one thing that makes laughter ring out the loudest, and that is from the love of a plaything. Geppetto, the toymaker of the town, is the centerpiece for the laughter. Therefore, although it is beyond fairy protocol, I like to visit his home to be sure he is doing just fine. He doesn't know of course, that I exist, much less that I visit from time to time. But I prefer to take it upon myself to see that his creations will do good for the village children.

It has been several years since I have actually done Geppetto a service. Several years since he has made a personal wish to me. And that night, I remember, will always stick out to me in the thousands of wishes I have made reality.

Geppetto had completed the work on his masterpiece—a little wooden puppet he called Pinocchio. Truly, I had to agree that it was a fine piece of work. It was a puppet that had the workings of a true little boy—a round face with rosy cheeks, bright innocent eyes, floppy black hair, and a sweet smile that made him glow with childlike joy, in spite of the fact that he wasn't alive. Yet.

I could see the care that went into that puppet, so I was less than surprised when Geppetto made the request on my star to have Pinocchio brought to life as a real boy. Of course, I was obliged to make his wish come true, but I could read Geppetto's heart. He knew he would be a good loving father, but both he and Pinocchio would need to know what it meant to be a family. Especially Pinocchio.

And so, I appeared in Geppetto's workshop that same night, using my fairy magic to give Pinocchio the gift of life. I took great joy in watching the wooden boy come alive, remarking all the new things that he could do—walk, talk, move around. But I still had to explain to him why he had come to life, and that there was a whole other purpose to Geppetto's wish being granted, besides just gaining a live boy. Pinocchio would have to earn his transformation from a wooden boy to flesh and blood and bone.

But that's not to say I wasn't going to help Pinocchio in his journey to becoming truly real. That's why I appointed a stray cricket—by the name of Jiminy—to help Pinocchio's decisions between right and wrong.

And that was the start of a long journey. I watched from my star the whole time, folded comfortably inside, as Pinocchio and Jiminy Cricket ventured out together. Somehow, it put a smile on my face watching everything, seeing the little wooden boy growing as he was. But there were times where I couldn't help but roll my eyes in my head, wishing to myself that Pinocchio could do better. That's when I had to appear on Earth and help him.

Nonetheless, I couldn't be more proud when I materialized in Geppetto's house that final time. The poor toymaker was crying onto his quilt, beside the still form of Pinocchio. Tears were shed by all in the room, but I didn't feel sad. I just smiled as I held my wand over Pinocchio, and, congratulating him for all that he had been through, made him into a real boy. I listened to the merrymaking that came afterwards, as I went back home to my star, leaving behind some spare bits of magic to give Jiminy his reward—a golden badge that made him Pinocchio's official conscience.

Since then, I haven't come inside to wish them well, or to say hello. That was one part of my immortal life as a fairy, and so I had to move on to other wishes of other good-hearted people. Still, it is not at all like I couldn't keep my eye on them on my own.

Because I felt so inclined to watch a band of good people, I decided to take a whole new approach to interacting with them, without giving away who I was to other townsfolk.

When the night ended, and I was no longer required to listen to the wishes of others, I returned to Earth. Except this time, I was a young girl with hair the color of caramel, in a white dress that made me appear much like the other women in the village. I altered my skin so that it didn't glow blue, and my wings became nothing more than little pink marks on my back. I left my eyes the same starlight blue, and kept my wand tucked in my dress, in case I ever needed it, though I didn't plan to perform many feats with my fairy magic. I could leave that for when I could grant another wish.

For a time, it felt wonderfully strange to be walking amongst the humans in the village—any village, truly. I wasn't used to staying in a single earthly spot for so long a time, much less not listening to wishes. It actually took me some time to not think about pulling out my wand to help those around me—after all, it was my job, and something that I had been doing for thousands of years. But that was when I began to feel lonely, because I wasn't doing anything quite as productive as I hoped. Geppetto and Pinocchio weren't always around for me to run into them, so I started to feel as though my time on Earth was being wasted.

Nonetheless, I was still grateful that I could watch the village children from a closer angle. I sat down on a bench in the village square, seeing them run and play together. Oftentimes, the boys chased each other in the streets, bouncing little balls on the cobblestones, and the girls hugged their dolls to their chests as they held pretend tea parties in the shade under a tree. Their laughter was what helped me stay on earth during the day, because I could breathe more easily knowing that there was such happiness in the village. As I mentioned, star-fairies live to hear such sounds every day.

It is summer during this time, so I can't sit in the hot sun all the hours. Therefore, I raise myself from the bench, and begin to walk around the town. I can hear everything—the peddlers calling their wares, the children laughing in the street, and the wagons rattling past. I walk with a light, delicate step, as though I actually am a young child, curious about this village and their ways of life. I am an alien in this place, but I'm not about to fall short of the chance to explore. I very much welcome the chance to meet new friends.

I breathe several long breaths of fresh air, tasting the lingering salt from the sea not very far off. Until then, I had forgotten there was a sea nearby, and wonder if there are lots of people down there. Perhaps, once I was done in the village, I would go down to the shore, and…

"Look out!"

"Get out of the way!"

Those two voices bombard me at once, and I don't know which to answer first. Out of one eye, I see a large wagon, pulled by a single black horse. And out of the other, I notice a young man with floppy black hair running towards me, reaching out his arm.

I realize it instantly—I was going to be punctured by a coming wagon…unless I moved quickly.

And in that instant, I'm yanked aside, just before the wagon thunders past on the road. I fall backwards onto the curb by the side of the road, but I am soon pulled back up by a pair of strong arms.

"You're not hurt, are you?" a voice asks.

I look up into the face of my rescuer. It's the young man who had called out to me before, with the curly black hair, and bright blue eyes. He has a kind, youthful face, perhaps about eighteen in human years, looking upon me with concern.

"Y-yes," I say at last. "Yes, I am all right."

The man smiles, releasing me from his arms. "Oh, good. Right then, I'm sorry, I've got to get back home. So long, miss." Then, he starts off down the street, swinging a sac over his shoulder.

"No, no, wait!" I call out to him, catching up to him quickly. He turns to me, his eyes curious. "Yeah?" he says.

"I only wanted to thank you," I say. "Had you not caught me, I suppose I could have gotten seriously hurt."

"No trouble," says the young man. "It does me good to do the right thing, you know."

"Yes, I suppose," I say, folding my arms behind my back.

The man puts down his sac, and bows his head politely. "I'm Pinocchio," he says. "What's your name?"

I take a breath, but it comes out as a gasp. For one thing, this is him—Pinocchio has grown up, into a kind, tall youth that I had barely recognized as the little wooden puppet from years past. And another…

…I don't have a name.


	2. Geppetto and Son

Pinocchio watches me, waiting for me to say what my name is. Would he think it was odd that a person—a fairy—didn't have a name? Well, then again, the only name he would know me by was the Blue Fairy. But that's not good enough. I need to think fast.

I glance about me at the signs for the shops, observing all the different kinds of names. Antonio, Benito, Georgina…they seem to go on. Although suddenly, my ears can catch the sound of a single name being called through the crowd, which is fine enough for me. I turn myself back towards Pinocchio, and state as confidently as I can.

"My name is Serafina," I answer.

Pinocchio grins, bending down to pick up the sac. He carries it a few feet, and then sets it on top of a wheelbarrow-like cart, which is piled high with blocks of wood. "Well, it was good to meet you, er, Serafina," he says kindly. "But I have to be going back home, otherwise my father will wonder what's become of me."

"You live with the kindly old woodcarver, Geppetto, still?" I want to know, trailing a step after Pinocchio.

"Oh, yes," he answers. "I'm his apprentice."

"I don't believe it," I say. I'd imagined Pinocchio doing great things alongside Geppetto, though I overlooked what might happen after he was no longer a little boy. "You must be quite anxious to learn the business."

"I would say so," Pinocchio agreed. "It's most definitely unlike anything I've ever learned before."

"No, because they don't teach you woodcarving in school, do they?" I ask, only too glad to be in conversation with Pinocchio after so many years.

Pinocchio shakes his head, laughing. "Yes. I liked school, but woodcarving with my father is a thousand times more interesting."

I nod. "You know, I haven't seen you around since you were a little boy. I trust that you and Geppetto get along perfectly enough most of the time?"

"Sure," he says. "Can't imagine a better father than Geppetto."

I cannot help but grin, knowing that Pinocchio is doing so well. Of course, I knew that things were not too terrible down here in the village, but it feels too good to be close to him. I guess it's because I'm so proud of the person that Pinocchio has become since changing into a real boy. Or perhaps it's like just returning to a long-lost relative after so long.

In any case, it's hard to keep the grin from escaping me.

"But, now what about you?" Pinocchio wants to know. "Since we've never met, I should like to know a little about you. Like…what kept you from running away from that wagon. Those things can be dangerous, you know that."

"Now I do," I answer.

"But what?" Pinocchio persists. "The wagon was coming so that you could at least see it. It's kind of odd to just stand still, as certain death is coming close to you."

"I didn't know that I was going to be done away with by a wagon," I explain. "This town is so new to me. I don't see how I could not look around some."

"Oh." Pinocchio draws out the word, as he understands it. "No wonder you didn't notice the wagon. Yeah, I would agree too. It's a nice little town. Especially in the summer, when it gets so warm outside."

"Oh, have you been to the shore?" I wonder aloud, pointing towards the air where I could sense the lingering salt from the sea. "I can only imagine how beautiful it looks down there this time of year."

Pinocchio stops his wheelbarrow, straightening up to follow my point. He gets a thoughtful look on his face, holding a hand over his face to cover from the bright sunlight. And finally, the corners of his lips turn upward, and he clears his throat.

"Well, I don't see why we can't go down there sometime," he says. "It's just, I've been so busy gathering my own wood, and learning from Geppetto, that I haven't had the chance to go down there."

"That's a shame," I mutter. "Perhaps at some point, we could take an excursion to the shore. At sunset."

"Would your family mind?" Pinocchio asks.

"What family?" I answer. "It's summertime—one of the most beautiful seasons of the year. It doesn't matter to my family what I do. As long as I don't run wild like a tiny child chasing chickens, I should be fine."

Pinocchio laughs as he resumes pushing the cart. "No, Geppetto wouldn't mind too much either. I hope Jiminy thinks it's all right too."

"I wouldn't worry about Jiminy," I say, remembering Pinocchio's little cricket conscience; I actually ponder asking if Jiminy should like to come along to the seashore, but I remember that Pinocchio doesn't know who I really am. Should a young woman even be asking about an acquaintance's cricket friends?

Pinocchio looks quickly up at me, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Never mind," he says. "Jiminy is nobody—just a friend of mine. He can get a little…fussy, when things don't go right."

"I understand," I say with a chuckle. "If you would like to accompany me to the seashore, Jiminy can come along too. I wouldn't mind his company at all, either."

"Don't worry," says Pinocchio while he shoves the cart over a peculiar-shaped cobblestone, towards the front door of Geppetto's workshop. He props the cart upright, and opens the little blue door, just as Geppetto comes into the entranceway, dressed in a stained apron, a blue shirt, black pants, and weathering brown shoes—the years haven't changed him the slightest.

"Pinocchio!" he exclaims, coming forth to greet his son. "I'm relieved to see you back so soon. I've barely started the work on supper."

"I can help!" The words are spoken before I can think to stop myself.

Geppetto glances past Pinocchio to look at me. He peers thoughtfully at my face, and the shine in his eyes makes me think briefly that he recognizes me, but then he steps towards me, and bows before remembering how raggedy he looks.

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, miss," he says.

"Please, call me Serafina," I say, smiling back at the kindly woodcarver.

"Now, what was that, miss?" he asks. "You said you could help with supper?"

I nod, keeping my smile.

"Aw, why, that's very, very kind of you, young lady Serafina," Geppetto says. "But I couldn't keep you from your family. A sweet girl like you should eat with her own folks, rather than us."

"Nonsense, Geppetto," I say with a shake of my head. "There's nowhere I'd rather be than helping others." I clench my toes to keep from thinking about my wand tucked in my dress.

Geppetto puts his fingers to his chin, rubbing it thoughtfully, as he cocks an eyebrow. "If you insist, Miss Serafina," he finally answers. "Follow me into the kitchen, if you please." He starts through the doorway, humming something to himself. I can't help but giggle when I hear the jolly old man's tune, as he puts a little jingle in his step. And then, behind him, a little black-and-white cat trots into the kitchen with the same step. I enter the kitchen with Geppetto, and the cat meows, catching me off for a moment.

"Say hello to Figaro," Geppetto says, making his way to a small stove.

"Oh, hello," I say, bending down to pet the cat. Once more, Figaro meows, and bends to the motion of my hand going down his back. "He's a sweet little thing."

"Yes, yes," says Geppetto, stirring something in a big boiling pot. He points behind him at a counter where some loafs of bread sit untouched. "There is some bread for breaking, Miss Serafina."

Letting go of Figaro, I take note of the bread, and the sharp object—a knife—resting just beside it. It takes me a moment to remember that I have not done something like this before, so I hesitate a while in picking up the knife. And I'm cautious about using my wand in front of Geppetto, as I know that him seeing me in my true form will only scare him. I don't want him to be scared, especially with that pot of hot water behind him; something dreadful could happen to either one of us.

The trouble is, fairy skin is very tender. And in my reduced form, it would be hard to protect myself if I made a mistake with the knife.

I shall just have to be very careful…

I pick up the knife in my hand, as Figaro watches from close by. I'm nervous now. If I do something, Figaro could get hurt. Very seriously hurt…

I breathe deeply, sweeping aside my caramel hair with my free hand. But then I can see as Pinocchio enters the house. He wipes his forehead, and stops to observe the action in the kitchen.

"Can I help?" he wants to know.

"Give Miss Serafina a hand, will you, Pinocchio?" Geppetto pipes up, and, in light of this, Pinocchio walks around the corner of the counter to see what I am supposed to do.

"You seem to know what to do," he says gently, pointing to the bread loaves.

"Yes, but…well…" My voice trails away, as I know that this might only break my disguise to Pinocchio.

"Are you afraid of the knife?" he asks, and then laughs softly. "Yeah, I know. It's pretty big."

I laugh, too embarrassed to admit that he's right.

"Here," Pinocchio says, placing his hand over mine to hold the knife handle. And then, in slow, gentle strokes, he pushes the blade through the bread, which crumbles apart at the crust. It's a warm sight to me, as the bread's fluffy inside reveals itself in the glow from the stove behind me. I've never eaten bread before—it's not necessary for a fairy to eat. But, one thing's for certain. It looks delicious, like the smell of whatever is cooking in Geppetto's black pot.

Pinocchio's hand continues to guide mine along the bread, cutting slices about half an inch thick. And for a moment, I settle into the repetitive, guided motion, as we near the end of the first loaf. I'm ready to cut the next one quickly.

But Pinocchio takes his hand off mine, stepping beside me.

"There," he says proudly. "I think you know how to do it now."

"Are you sure?" I ask, still a little uncertain.

"Absolutely," he says with a nod of his head.

I swallow a little, still watching the knife in my hand. It feels strange now, holding it, but not having Pinocchio hold it too. I feel the fear returning to me, but it doesn't rear its head as high as it did before. My fingers still hold the repetitive motion, and, subconsciously, when I place the knife on the next loaf, my hands move without my control.

"See, it's not so hard once you get used to it," Pinocchio says, as he bends down to a cupboard below the counter. "When you're done, the bread can go in this basket."

"Thank you," I say, before he smiles and moves behind me to help Geppetto.

At last, when I've cut all the bread, I take each individual piece, and put it into the basket Pinocchio gave me. Under Geppetto's instruction, I place the basket onto a tiny table in the corner of the adjacent room, where five chairs are set to quaint sets of silverware. Pinocchio is taking a round goldfish bowl, where a beautiful little goldfish is swimming happily, to one of the chairs, as Figaro leaps up onto another one. Geppetto soon joins them with a pot of sweet-smelling soup, setting it in the center of the table next to a bowl of fruit, and the basket of bread. The light from the kitchen illuminates the feast, and I quickly find myself wishing I could stay for a divine-looking meal with some dear friends. I only said I would help, not that I would stay with them. And besides, the sun is just disappearing from the sky. In a matter of minutes, I will be required to return to my true form, back to my star.

"Take a seat, please, Miss Serafina," Geppetto says, interrupting my thoughts. Figaro meows sweetly from his seat at the table, grinning at me.

"I wish I could," I say regrettably. "But, I think I may have overstayed my welcome just a little. It's getting dark, you know."

"Didn't you say your family didn't care what you did?" Pinocchio asks. "As long as you didn't get into trouble?"

"Yes, I did say so," I agree, "but I cannot stay out much longer past dark. There are…things…I must be attending to at this time."

The disappointment seems evident on all their faces, but Geppetto is the first to speak. "If that is what you wish, Miss Serafina," he says gently. "I really appreciate what you did for us tonight."

"Please, think nothing of it," I say as I start for the door. "I hope that I will see you again soon."

"I hope so," Geppetto agrees.

"Yes," Pinocchio adds. "Me too."

I grin at them all, wishing with all my heart that I could stay with them for the wonderful evening they're about to have. But as I close the door, I catch the saddened look on Pinocchio's face, somehow hoping that one of them will wish upon my star for Serafina to return tonight. Because once I return to my star, I am just the Blue Fairy again.


	3. Lying on the Beach

It is a long night, sitting inside my star. It feels cozy in there, but I still cannot shake off the warmth that came off of the bread I cut in the kitchen with Pinocchio's help. The smells of the kitchen linger, and I am more than tempted to leave my star just so I can sit on Earth and know that such smells are so close by. But that's the only thing I don't like about being bound to my star by night—I cannot leave unless someone calls to me with their wishing hearts. And that's just what I wish someone would do right about now.

Goodness, even now, I can still smell the soup, and the wood shavings scattered throughout the house. I'd forgotten how pungent such smells can be, because I never smell them up inside my star. As a matter of fact, since my visit to Earth, I am starting to realize how bland life in my star is, despite that it's a magical place. Nothing is ever cooked, nothing is ever grown, nothing is ever created—aside from the remnants of wishes I have granted before. But even so, it is not quite enough.

I just…wait. And it's a long time to wait between wishes. Only when I do get a call, am I too happy to breach my star, and return to Earth. But it doesn't come very close to when I can become a human, and be among the townspeople for hours at a time. Several wishes only take minutes to an hour, depending on the request.

And so, the moment that the sun starts to rise, I shed my blue gown, skin, and hair, exchanging it for the white dress and caramel hair once I am safely on the ground. I start to tell myself that I am no longer the Blue Fairy, but a young woman called Serafina, while I wander the streets yet again.

The sights are familiar to me, but the way everyone goes about today seems different. Everyone is dressed differently, the children laugh at different games, and there seems to be a bit more excitement in the air. I wonder why.

I don't run into anyone for a long time. But when I do, I'm very much surprised.

I managed to locate Geppetto's house, and I am stepping close to the door, when suddenly, out from under my feet, a little insect hops up onto the steps leading up to it. I jump back, with just enough time to notice that this cricket is wearing a top hat, with a little black coat, and is carrying a red umbrella.

"Jiminy Cricket!" I gasp, both in surprise and joy to see my old friend.

"Huh?" a tiny voice says. "You talkin' to me?"

"Yes," I answer, bending down to get a look at the little cricket. "I am."

"Hmm," Jiminy says, tapping his foot thoughtfully. "I didn't think you would notice me. A cricket can't be too careful, you know."

"Yes, yes," I say. "What are you doing?"

Jiminy looks up at me, still seeming surprised, but I hold back a chuckle when I notice that his face is turning bright red. He tugs on his collar, a little nervously. "Well…I-I, I was…comin' outside for some fresh air. A lot of excitement around here today."

"Why is that?" I want to know.

"The heck if I know, milady," Jiminy says, shrugging his shoulders. "Geppetto's been rushin' around to finish things, and my old pal, Pinoke—well, he's taggin' along to help his father."

"Are they inside right now?" I ask.

"Oh, sure," says Jiminy. "You want me to get Pinocchio?"

"Would you?"

Jiminy tips his hat just as the blush disappears from his face, and he bounds back inside the house. After just a few moments, the door opens, and Pinocchio appears. His black hair is a little tousled, his clothes full of sawdust, looking as though he has just dived into a basket of decaying toys.

"Pinocchio!" I say in a gasp. "What have you been up to?"

"Good to see you, Serafina," he says, dusting himself off. "Oh, my. Crazy action like you could never imagine. I…I'm surprised you're not with your own family preparing."

"Preparing?" I say. "For what?"

Pinocchio gives me an odd look, before he unsuccessfully stifles a laugh. He leans against the doorframe, looking at me, as he dusts himself off one final time. "You're a funny person, Serafina. But I'll tell you about what big day is coming up tomorrow." He pauses, but doesn't laugh. "Tomorrow is the Ferragosto holiday. Everyone in the town is going to gather on the seashore, and we're going to dance, and eat a lot of good food, and just have fun together."

"Oh," I say. "Well, this celebration certainly sounds like a good time to me."

"Yeah," Pinocchio agrees. "Today is the last day that everybody in the country works, so that tomorrow, we can all celebrate together. It's going to be big! Very, very big!"

"I can see that," I remark.

"You will be coming, right?" Pinocchio asks. "Because, you know, practically everyone in town will be down at the seashore, and you can't have any fun in town by yourself."

"No, no," I answer. "I will come. As long as you can show me around. I don't like saying how unfamiliar I might be."

"It'll be no problem," says Pinocchio. "I tell you, Serafina. It will be the best time you've ever had!"

"I trust your word."

"Okay." Pinocchio turns to look inside, as Geppetto rushes past with his arms full of tools, some of which fall out with a clang to the floor. Pinocchio chuckles nervously as he looks back at me. "I guess I have to go back in and help my father. It's our last day of work, you know, and it looks like he needs help with the tools."

I laugh with him, sweeping aside some of my hair to keep from guffawing too loud. "Well, then I'll leave you to it."

"Thanks, Serafina. I'll see you soon." And with that, he ducks back inside, followed by Jiminy Cricket.

Suddenly, I feel like I've been left stuck in the ground. Since now everyone is preparing for this grand celebration, there is nothing for me to do but wait for the day to come. It's sort of like what I told Pinocchio about running wild and chasing the chickens around—except in this case, everyone is doing it, and it is crazier than I ever pictured. It would be nice if there was something I could do to help, but I won't know for sure, unless someone wishes for it upon my star, and that chance has come and gone.

Finally, I go away from Geppetto's house, and walk past all the shops and storefront carts, until I reach the edge of town, where, just between me and the horizon, there is the sea. It glints like ice in the summer sun, the waves crashing gently onto the shore. I take a sniff, and that sweet, salty smell returns, tantalizing, and alluring. I look back towards the town, and I figure that, since no one will be looking for me to do anything, I decide to take the long walk down to the sandy shore.

It feels kind of nice to walk through the grassy field towards the seashore. I'm wearing thin shoes, so the blades can still touch most of my feet. They bend in the wind towards my feet, and it's hard not to laugh at the feeling. This is the sort of thing that I don't feel inside my star, and so I want to enjoy it. The smell of the sea, plus the cozy grass, it makes me want to lie down, and sleep there, until the Ferragosto celebration is at hand. I cannot quite see what else I could do until then.

Still, I make my way towards the sand, finally catching the tiny grains between my toes. The sand is warm from having sat in the sun for most of the morning, but it's really quite welcoming. The warmth spreads along my body, making me shiver. But it feels good. The beach is empty, so the entire expanse of sand and water is mine for now, and I'm confused as to what I can do with it.

The first thing I do, is take off my shoes. The sand feels a hundredfold warmer, piling over my feet as if the earth is trying to hug me. But I pull free easily, while I plow through towards the water, which forces the salty aroma further into me. It's never unpleasant, of course. It's unlike anything I've ever experienced so up close before. The beach is like a whole other world that stands apart from Earth, because it is so empty, but it is so beautiful—the way the clouds stroll across the sky, the grass bends towards the sea, and the waves fall white upon the sand. It feels like there never was an Earth—this is it, altogether.

To pass the hours, I walk along the water, letting the wet sand swallow my feet, and the water to chill my toes. The water itself is clear, so I can see the little schools of fish that come and go. The light that comes through the water is enchanting, making the colors of the fish dance around, and when I swish my foot through the waves, the light goes in all different directions. The fish scatter, but it's absolutely breathtaking.

"Oh," I sigh deeply. "I wish I could have taken Geppetto and Pinocchio with me here."

But then, I notice something strange in the water.

I bend closer to the water, kneeling so that my dress is getting wet in the waves' foam. I can now see my reflection wavering in the water, but it's not the way I look now. I should see caramel-colored hair, ivory skin, and a white dress dampened by water.

Instead, there is the face that sparkles blue, with long ringlets of blue hair. The eyes are a bright, otherworldly blue, and a pair of large, blue-purple wings flapping delicately behind my back.

The Blue Fairy. Not the girl called Serafina.

It's hard to see myself, because it's a side of me that I wish I didn't have to go back to. There are such beauties on earth that I don't ever want to leave. And, besides, I feel myself wanting to get closer to Geppetto and Pinocchio. I've never seen such growth over the course of a lifetime than I've seen in Pinocchio, nor a better, prouder father than Geppetto. For me, it's hard to not feel like I've made a connection with the two of them.

I turn away so that my fairy reflection has completely vanished from sight. The celebration—oh, dear me, why can't it be tonight? I would love to enjoy it before I would have to return to the star, and leave behind my dearest friends.

With another sigh, I turn over, and lay on my back in the sand. The sun glares down on me, seeming to sink beneath me, into my fairy skin. I can feel the heat, even in my bones, but, like the smell of the sea, it is not discomforting. It's lovely, calming even.

And that is where I find myself for several more hours—asleep on the shore, until moonlight starts to creep into the sky. It's when I know I have to shed my human guise, and stretch my numb wings for the flight back to the star.


	4. Ferragosto

I pass the night in an excited daze, anxious for the Ferragosto celebration. Any wishes that I hear are answered quickly and diligently, but my heart is still in awaiting the festivities.

It finally feels like, after thousands of years, I will be a part of something other than making wishes come true and watching the world go by without me. I will have a chance to actually _live_, for a few hours, among real people, doing things that I usually do not—dancing, smelling the scents of those glorious dishes that everyone will make, and simply being a part of them, without having to give away that I am a fairy.

It will be such a different change of pace, that I shiver thinking about what fun it will be.

At long last, I glide down towards the earth, gradually becoming my human self. I come to Earth, expecting chaos and excitement to surround me once more, but this time, there is a surprising difference.

The town streets are completely empty. And quiet. The children are not running or laughing, and the peddlers are not crying their wares as usual.

Instead, all the noise is coming from far down the grassy field, beyond the town. I follow the sounds, almost certain of what such noises could mean.

And indeed, there it is.

The seashore is barely visible with the large crowds of people covering the sand. They move all at the same time, in different directions, like a thousand fleshy waves colliding fast. But the yelling, cheering, and laughter is the magic note—it drives me fast across the grass, while I prepare to join them, taking care not to lose my wand from the folds of my dress.

I slow down the closer I get to the revelry, looking for some familiar faces. When I don't see any at first, I feel myself start to get smaller, and smaller, although I remain the same size. It is terrifying to be in such an excited crowd, to be moved around in so many directions, when I don't even know where I should start.

For a time, I just move with the crowd, hoping that they will bring me closer to the water. I'd like to see its beautiful surface again, with the sunlight dancing every which way, but just enough so that I don't have to see my reflection as the Blue Fairy. But slowly, just moving of the crowd's accord grows tiresome. I start to move away, to resume the search for someone that I may know.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Pinocchio appears right in front of me. I pull in a breath, but stumble backwards, so that Pinocchio has to catch me at my back. He pulls me back up gently, and I notice the way the sun makes him appear a silhouette in front of me.

"Gee, how many times do you think I'll have to save you?" he asks, moving his hands to my shoulders.

"You won't need to worry about me," I assure him. "I'm here to have a wonderful time, not go looking for trouble."

"I hope so," Pinocchio says with a laugh. He offers his hand. "You want to come with me?"

"Where are we going?" I wonder aloud.

"To the water. Everyone is going swimming!"

I feel my heart jump when Pinocchio mentions the water, but I'm taken aback when he mentions swimming. I hadn't thought about that, though I do remember how cold the water was when I stepped in it yesterday. Will it be warmer today, than it was before?

We reach the water faster than I expected. And it is scattered about by the splashing of little children, and the groups of young men and women jumping between the waves. The water splashes white and blue, making rainbows against the sun. A thousand droplets soar across the air, looking like a spray of fairy dust.

"How beautiful," I whisper, in a dreamy daze.

"Yes, I know," Pinocchio agrees. "And it's only ever this pretty on Ferragosto." He takes me by my arm again, his grip pulsing with excitement. "Come on, let's go in! Now watch your dress!"

"What?"

Before I can even ask what Pinocchio is going to do, he takes both my arms, and we dive towards the waves. I barely have time to close my eyes and take a breath, before a blast of cold water flashes across my face. It swallows me whole, turning my hair into waves of silk, and making my skin feel tight. I grope around to find solid ground, but there is water all around me. I cannot even tell where Pinocchio has gone, and my heart speeds up so that I can feel the pulse in my temples.

Finally, two hands grab me under my arms, and hoist me out of the water. I pull in a breath, trying to recover from my surprise.

"Serafina." Pinocchio's gentle voice breaks my thoughts, but my heart is still driving forth uncomfortably. "You okay?"

I look up, lifting my hand to push away my wet hair.

"I didn't scare you, did I?" Pinocchio asks.

"No, no," I lie, unsuccessfully keeping back a cough. A salty taste bombards my mouth, but I swallow it back. "I haven't swum…in a long time. But…the water…I should still like to be in it."

"Okay," says Pinocchio. Then, to my surprise, he lifts his hand, and brushes back the rest of my hair behind my ear. His fingertips rub against my ear, and I keep back a gasp at feeling his skin—I still find it hard to believe how Pinocchio has changed from the day I transformed him.

So I have to say it.

"You're such a gentleman, Pinocchio," I say. "Thank you."

"Sure," he says. "But I guess I shouldn't have just pulled you into the water. I'm sorry."

"No, no, don't be," I reply quickly. "I haven't been in the water for so long. And it's such beautiful water, too. Although—" I shiver a little "—the water can be a little chilling."

Pinocchio chuckles lightly. "Isn't it always the way?"

I shake my head, looking at Pinocchio, and then back at the clear water of the sea. It's rolling and sweeping from everyone swimming through the waves, and the sunlight bouncing on the surface makes it all the more breathtaking.

"Why don't we wade into the waves?" I suggest, gesturing back to the water.

Without a second's hesitation, Pinocchio holds out his palm. I reach to take it, though once more, I can't stop the jolting of my heart. A fairy's heart is tender, but this is becoming an exercise for mine.

The two of us step deeper into the water, until we are up to our waists. The further we go out, the faster Pinocchio steps through the water. He starts a hopping rhythm over the waves, which splash onto him as though he were a rock on the shore. The spray flings away from him, plopping onto my skin, catching me in my eye.

Pinocchio hears my little surprised cry, and turns to me.

"Don't be scared, Serafina," he says softly. "We're just beginning on the fun out here."

"What shall we do?" I want to know, both scared and excited.

"You'll see." Pinocchio finally stops wading in, and holds his arms to me. "Come here."

Slowly, I step into Pinocchio's arms, and he holds me, shifting his arms to get comfortable with my form. My arms are pressed up against his chest, as a shiver—left over from our last escapade into the water—takes me by surprise.

"Serafina, you're shivering," Pinocchio notes. His fingers clench my waist, forcing another shiver across my body. Without thinking about what I'm doing, I push deeper into Pinocchio's arms. I don't understand what is happening to me, but, somehow, I find that it isn't so terrible from where I am. Pinocchio's body is warm, the sun starting to dry him off. The warmth spreads onto me, strong enough that my fairy skin soaks it up like a flower. Is this really the same boy that I gave the gift of life to, and then made into a true human being?

"You okay now?"

Pinocchio's voice shatters my thoughts again, and I have to pause before I look up at him. In a matter of moments, the sun has dried his black hair so that it tumbles a little in the breeze, like midnight grass. The sun makes his face look a silhouette, the stray rays bringing more light into his bright blue eyes.

The eyes that once stared blankly at me as painted circles, before they were made real. I still can't find the strength to believe it. I have to know it.

I pry one of my hands from between our bodies, and touch his cheek with my fingers. The skin glows pink beneath them, and I smile. The sweet glow on his face isn't the same airbrushed rouge—it's for real.

Pinocchio smiles beneath my touch. He then opens his mouth to say something, and, as I then tense up to hear what he will tell me, he stops. The smile fades a little.

"Your…your hands are very soft," he says instead, and he reaches up his own hand to take mine. He holds it, and his warmth wafts onto me as though it were a real little flame. I forget that he even spoke to me, that I should thank him, but the sensation is too strong for me to think.

Pinocchio quickly looks over his shoulder at the revelry still taking place on the seashore. Some of the people have left the water, and are standing around the musicians playing their instruments on the sand. They are tapping their feet, and swaying their bodies merrily. And Pinocchio turns back to me, his eyes timidly meeting mine.

"Um…how about we go back to the beach?" he asks. "I think they'll ask everyone to dance soon."

"Oh," I say, shocked at seeing such a drawback from his happy emotion. I thought perhaps he would want to stay out here longer with me; I thought, maybe he would still want to swim. But there might still be a chance. "Do you suppose we can dance together?"

"Absolutely," Pinocchio says, before he leads me back from the water. I'm glad I have his consent to still spend time with him, but the shyness in his voice sounds like a warning to me.


	5. Wish Granted

Once Pinocchio and I have reached the seashore again, almost all the people have gathered near the musicians. Several are tapping their feet with the music, humming, or even singing some foreign tune that I can't recognize. Still, it's rather good. It's very good—almost impossible to listen to, and not feel the music inside.

I observe everyone around me, and decide to mimic them as best I can. I have never danced before, reminding me of the night that Pinocchio helped me cut the bread. I'm struck somewhere in my mind, or is it my heart? I'm not sure which, but I'm unsure nevertheless what I should do. Whether I should question Pinocchio about what caused him to become so timid out in the water, or forget that it happened and live for this new moment.

I'm lucky I'm standing there, I suppose, for the music quickly increases speed, practically forcing me into step. It's interesting, because everyone is moving with such unique step, that I can't decide what I should dance like.

Finally, I look to Pinocchio, who is dancing to his own steps. There's a grand smile on his face, as suddenly, he turns to me. The suddenness halts my heart for just a moment, for just moments ago, he seemed so shy of doing anything next to me. Perhaps I am forgiven for whatever caused him to act as he did.

"Serafina!" he crows, stopping in mid-step. "Dance with me!"

"You don't mind?" I ask.

"I can't hear you over this music," he answers, even though we can hear each other perfectly fine.

But somehow, I find it in myself to laugh, joining Pinocchio in his dancing. He doesn't tell me what to do, but since I am so close, I figure I might as well do as he does. It's a jumble of steps, spreading across the sandy ground like no kind of merriment I've seen till now. Of course, I can't do it as well, or easily, as Pinocchio, but it's good to know that I'm back into the rhythm of the celebration.

At one point, Pinocchio takes me by the hand, and twirls me under his arm. I watch my dress swirl out, but I am too dazed by the move to truly care. The motion is so thrilling, that once I recover from it, I want for Pinocchio to do it again. And he does, making me laugh with such joy that even he is guffawing like a little boy. I pull myself into his arms, as he twirls the both of us around, making my head feel like it's full of fairy dust and seawater. It's a wonderful feeling, so I hope that Pinocchio is feeling the same. I want it for him very much—as much as I don't want to return to my star.

I cannot believe that I have come to dislike my existence as a fairy so much. I wonder—is it because it is so humdrum compared to the joys of human life, or…or…

Now, as I look inside Pinocchio's face, I do wish I could stay on Earth forever. Except, fairies cannot grant their own wishes—unless someone made the wish for me to stay for good.

I wonder if I could get Pinocchio to ask me to stay with him and Geppetto. Better yet, dare I reveal to him who I am?

But I can't dwell on those thoughts for long, because Pinocchio is still pulling me across the sand. He's laughing to the beat of the music, bringing me for the ride.

"What do you think, Serafina?" he asks me. "Are you having a good time?"

"Yes. Yes, I am!" I cry from the bottom of my heart. "More than I've had in a long time!"

"Same here!" Pinocchio cries back over the music. "I'm glad you came!"

"So then, I am forgiven?" I blurt out.

Pinocchio slows his dancing, looking me in the eye with bewilderment. "What are you talking about?" he wants to know.

"You were going to say something to me, out on the water," I explain to him. "But then, you looked at me as though you were afraid of me. Is there anything wrong?"

Pinocchio's dancing gradually fades away to nothing, and he holds my hand gently, but I can practically feel the tension coming to life. "I think we should go somewhere away where we can hear each other," he says.

I agree with a nod, and so we push through the dancing crowd, and head back towards the water. The sun has come down some, so the water is glinting with shades of pink and orange. Though I take no notice of that as Pinocchio stands with me by the water's edge; I shiver in the slightest, when the water splashes on my feet.

"I'm sorry, Serafina," Pinocchio finally says. "I was going to tell you before. But…but I guess I got scared."

"Of…me?" I guess, pointing to myself.

Pinocchio looks my way, the blush returning to his cheeks. "Well…I…I…I don't know how to say it."

I take his hand, holding it close to my side, so that he knows for certain I am willing to listen. More so, that I am willing to take whatever this has to do with me.

"Pinocchio, look at me," I whisper. "Don't be afraid. I understand—whatever it is you have to say."

Pinocchio swallows, taking in a long breath. He flicks his eyes to me fast, the corners of his mouth inching up. And then, in a motion that I am simply unprepared for, he reaches one hand to cup the back of my head, tugging me towards him. Our faces are just a breath away.

"You're a strange kind of person, Serafina," he says gently. "But I really like you."

Pinocchio looks at me, with a strong magnetic pull that makes me afraid to look away. The more I look, the more beautiful his eyes appear to me. This feeling is entirely new to me, so I do not know if I should smile, or stay perfectly still until one of us decides to do something.

Indeed it is a long time before something happens. And it causes my heart to arrest itself, stopping, as a wave of feeling overtakes me quickly.

Pinocchio kisses me.

It's very brief, but it's as though I've been struck by lightning. The magic I've held dormant for so long is churning inside, like a wild animal trapped in a cage. My hands grow warm, but it's not from Pinocchio holding them. And when he lets go, to tug on my waist to bring me closer, I notice what is happening.

My hands are glowing blue—the first step of me returning to my original fairy form.

My mind is working in two places at once—one is trying to willfully force my hands to not glow, and the other is attempting to enjoy this beautiful moment with Pinocchio. It's nearly impossible to keep them balanced, for just as my hands' glow starts to dwindle, Pinocchio rubs his fingers on my waist, forcing a light-headed feeling into me.

There's only one thing to do. If I can get away from these miraculous feelings that Pinocchio is inducing in me, then I'll be safe. Except the way that he has me snuggled into his arms, it will be hard to escape—even more, to have the _wanting _to get away.

"Serafina?" Pinocchio asks gently.

"Hmm?" I answer.

"How are you feeling?" he says. "I mean…are you scared? Is it okay that I kissed you?"

"There's nothing I've ever liked more," I reply, realizing how quickly that phrase is becoming truth.

"I'm glad," he adds. "I'm very glad we met."

"I am too." For the moment, it doesn't matter to me that my magic is boiling to be released. Nor do I care that I am both frightened and excited at the same time to be feeling what I am for Pinocchio. There's simply something pleasurable about being told that someone really likes you—perhaps even loves you. But I'm afraid to think that far ahead.

So I close my eyes to the sounds of the music that has begun the rhythm of the sunset—quiet, and serene. And Pinocchio rubs his hands along my arms, settling after a moment or two for just holding me at my back. It feels too good to be where I am, so that when the magic in me starts to come alive, it's not as potent as usual. The warmth only comes from Pinocchio, and that's the way I wish for it to be.

…..

Awakening from my dreamy state is quick, but it happens against my will. And when I do, the world is dark, the only light being the glow of lanterns on the seashore.

But then, why is there a hint of silvery-blue in it all?

I glance up to Pinocchio, expecting to once more see the pure love that made it sparkle before I fell asleep in his arms. Except now, it's marked by surprise—shock, even.

What's wrong?

The silvery-blue glow is intensifying, but it doesn't look as though it is coming from the party scene nearby. Rather, it's right in front of me. _On _me.

I lift up my hands. Against the dark of the sea, they are a bright blue, lighting up the space like starlight. It feels like it's coming off every inch of my body. Even when I flex my long-stagnant back muscles, they seem to flap, spreading fairy dust.

Am I…?

"Serafina?" Pinocchio backs up a step, his face aghast with amazement and surprise. "What happened to you?"

I look at myself, turning my head every which way to observe my apparent transformation. My entire body is glowing blue, making my new bright blue dress shine like a star. I play with my hair, gasping when I see it has faded from caramel to sky blue.

I cannot believe it. How did I lose control over my guise so much?

For a time, the two of us are speechless.

"I should've told you," I finally say, my voice too low to be heard.

"That you are the Blue Fairy?" Pinocchio mutters, pointing behind me to my wings. "_The _Blue Fairy?"

I shake my head, closing the distance between me and Pinocchio. He has to understand now. "I apologize for not saying anything before, Pinocchio. But I don't think I could have walked around the village with my wings on my back."

Pinocchio shakes his head back and forth, but he never blinks.

"Why…why did you come down here?" he asks.

"I couldn't avoid staying away from you and Geppetto forever," I try to explain. "I suppose I had so much pride in what I helped you do, that I had to visit—see you both face-to-face sometime."

Pinocchio's eyes widen, pulling in a breath at the same time. "Then that explains why you didn't know how to cut the bread," he remarks. "Or what Ferragosto was all about."

"Yes," I sigh in remorse. "I truly am sorry, Pinocchio."

Pinocchio shrugs one shoulder, and then places his hand on my arm. "You're still Serafina, though, aren't you?"

"I can be, if you want me to," I say. "Fairies don't have birth-given names."

"Well, then, you're most definitely Serafina to me," says Pinocchio.

"Thank you," I whisper, the gratefulness increasing tenfold the more I look at him. Well, until I realize how late it has gotten.

"Pinocchio, I'm sorry," I say, "but I have to go back to the star. It's high-time I return to where I must stay."

"Oh, but you'll come back sometime, won't you?" Pinocchio wants to know, gripping my arms tighter.

"Every day from here to forever," I say. "You can be certain of that."

Pinocchio grins widely, before he takes me by the waist and pecks me on the lips again. I glow all over, fighting the urge to step away from him too soon.

"Farewell," I whisper, as I move slowly from his grip. "And, don't forget, always let your conscience be your guide."

"I won't," Pinocchio assures me.

At last, I spread my arms, causing a cloud of fairy dust to take me away from my fairy form. I shrink to the size of a fairy dust particle, and fly away, trailing sparkles behind me like a comet. I am warmer than ever, feeling with every part of me, the care that Pinocchio gave me when I was a human. I've never known love before, but it is even more beautiful than the night sky. I look back, sending a smile to all on the seashore. My eyes close, enjoying the flight—the freedom. Because I know there will never be anything like it again.


End file.
